First: A big thank you to EvavH! You are, as always, awesome. Second: Thanks to all those who left truly wonderful comments. I sincerely apologize for the wait you all had to endure. I had originally finished the story, but then realized that after chapter 6, the rest was complete crap. So, here is the new and much improved chapter 7. I hope it was worth the wait!


When Harvey awoke, it took a moment for him to remember why there was a weight on top of him and his back ached like he'd slept on the couch. But then the previous night came back to him and he recognized the mess of dirty blond hair in front of him.

He gently removed himself from beneath Mike, laying him down gently on the space Harvey had previously occupied. Mike must have been tired because he didn't stir once.

Harvey watched him sleep for a moment, not caring just how creepy that probably was. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the bruises on Mike's face or the way his forehead was creased in tiny frown lines. He couldn't ignore the way his own heart lurched whenever he thought of that ass next door laying a finger on Mike and the way Mike had tried to defend Scott's actions to Harvey.

He took a deep breath and scrubbed a hand wearily through his hair. How had he gotten into this mess? He thought back to that first night when he noticed the blond kid sitting in the hallway, smiling as Harvey passed to go to the gym. And Harvey realized that he might not have been unhappy back then, but he wasn't happy, either.

And he wondered if Mike made him happy. Those nights when Mike had come over for pizza and a movie, quoting and bantering with Harvey—those nights, Harvey thought, were happy ones.

Mike began to stir only after Harvey had showered and put on a pot of coffee. But the unmistakable sound of someone falling off a couch onto hardwood floor was certainly evidence enough that the kid was awake.

Harvey peered over the kitchen counter to spot Mike on the floor, attempting to push himself up with the aid of Harvey's coffee table. "You okay?" he asked lightly, more amused than concerned at Mike's sleep induced clumsiness.

Mike rubbed at the bruise on his jaw and peered sleepily at Harvey. When he didn't respond but continued to stare, Harvey started to worry the kid had hit his head.

"Mike?" he asked in concern.

Mike shook his head like he was clearing it. "You're real…"

"And you're an idiot," Harvey replied jokingly.

"Last night…wasn't a dream…"

Harvey shook his head and poured them each a cup of the finest coffee Donna could find and force Harvey to buy for herself and her friends. "Do you want it to be?" he asked hesitantly. He hoped Mike had seen the light last night and wanted nothing more to do with Scott. But Harvey had been a prosecutor long enough to see how most of these cases ended.

But Mike slowly shook his head. "No." He peered seriously up at Harvey, still kneeling on the floor where he'd fallen, and repeated himself. "No. I don't think so."

Harvey met his gaze. "Good. There's coffee for you if you want it. Just try not to injure any more of my furniture on your way."

Mike let out a small laugh and slowly approached the bar.

The kid was thinking much too loudly for Harvey's quiet morning to allow. "Spit it out, Mike."

Mike blushed but said, "About last night…I…I tried to…to you, and, well…It was wrong of me and I shouldn't have."

Harvey tried to figure out what the hell Mike was talking about, but then recalled the kid's earlier attempt to grope him in the hopes of distracting him away from the topic of abusive boyfriends. He sighed. "Mike…" How did Harvey explain without hurting Mike or himself? "Last night, you were hurt and vulnerable and—Jesus Christ, you'd been assaulted and almost raped! And as much as I wanted to let you continue, I couldn't. You see that, right? How was I supposed to know that you weren't doing it just to—I don't know—erase the memory of his hands on you?"

Mike flinched as Harvey's tone grew sharp and his voice gained volume. "I thought you knew," he said softly, as though he was afraid he'd provoke Harvey's wrath.

Harvey let out a steadying, calming breath. He couldn't yell at Mike. He couldn't treat him like a witness. He had to be careful. Mike wasn't broken yet, but he was still fragile.

"Mike, what did you tell him about me?" Harvey asked. Mike had started to say something last night, about how Scott had tried to force him after Mike had told him he'd kissed someone, but he'd stopped before he'd said whom. And Harvey hadn't wanted to push it last night, but it was important now.

Mike looked down into his cup of coffee and didn't answer.

"Mike?" Harvey demanded gently.

Blue eyes flickered up into his and for a moment, they filled with tears. "Nothing. He doesn't know it's you that I'm…who I've been with." He looked away, avoiding Harvey's gaze.

Harvey wondered what lay in that pause. That Mike what?

"He saw me that last night we watched Citizen Kane together, and he wanted to know why I'd been there. What could I say? So, he told me I was a whore and that if he ever caught me near your place again he'd..." Mike closed his eyes, pressed them shut like he was in pain.

Harvey wanted to reach out to him, but they were separated by the countertop and he was afraid he wouldn't be able to let go if he got a hold of the kid.

After a tense silence that seemed to stretch into eternity, Mike let out a shaky breath. "It didn't matter. He punished me anyway."

"Hit you," Harvey corrected.

Mike looked at him for a moment before nodding. "Yeah."

Harvey recalled that night that Mike had knocked on his door, crying, telling Harvey he couldn't come over anymore. He remembered the words not meant to be heard through the door: "I can't see you anymore."

Harvey swallowed a hot gulp of his coffee, waiting for the caffeine to flood his veins and help him through this conversation.

"Last night," Mike began, surprising Harvey. He hadn't thought the kid would want to mention it. "He got mad because I came home late. I tried to tell him it was because my bike got stolen, and I had to take the subway home, and there was a game last night so it took me longer. But he didn't believe me. He said he knew I'd been out," and Mike took a deep breath and shyly looked at Harvey. "Sucking some rich guy's cock for a penny. I…I got mad."

Harvey watched in horror as Mike began to shake, and he wanted more than ever to wrap him in his arms. But he feared that if he moved, it would break whatever was happening right now, and he needed to hear Mike tell his story as much as Mike needed to tell it.

Mike laughed eerily. "I never get mad. I used to, you know? When we first met. He was nice and funny and generous. We used to go to parties—art gallery openings for his work—and he'd tell me how much he loved me. He didn't get jealous, not even…Well, one night, there was this guy. He kept hitting on me and touching me, and he was a big sponsor for the show, so I tried to get away from him, but he cornered me eventually. Scott walked in on us with the guy's mouth on mine and his hand in my pants. He got really mad. He never believed me that I hadn't wanted it."

Harvey could see why Mike hadn't left Scott immediately. He still thought Mike was an idiot for it, but he understood all the same. He only wished he'd been there to help.

"But last night…" Mike started again, still not drinking from his cup, just nursing it in his hands. "Last night, I got mad. He hit me, and all I could think about was you."

Harvey's eyes widened in surprise. "Me?"

Mike nodded. "I guess being with you made me remember that being with somebody didn't have to involve getting beat up with a belt for being an hour late home from work."

Harvey winced at the imagery that produced. His hands tightened on his own mug and he sipped his coffee, imagining strangling that son of a bitch with the belt that had hurt Mike.

"I was trying to hurt him. It was kind of stupid, in retrospect. I guess I should have known better than to provoke him, but like I said before: I was mad. I told him he was right. That I was late because I was too busy kissing this guy I'd met at a club." And then the tears began to fall silently down Mike's cheeks, his shoulders shaking in an uneven rhythm.

Harvey finally decided it was time to move. He made his way around the counter and turned Mike into his chest, wrapping his arms around him protectively. "You're okay. You did the right thing, Mike. You're okay, now. I promise."

After what seemed like forever, Mike's crying stopped. He didn't move except to wrap his arms around Harvey and squeeze. "I'm pathetic, aren't I?" he asked softly.

Harvey squeezed back. "You?" he scoffed. "You're a genius, kid. A really stupid one, maybe, but you aren't pathetic."

They were both startled by the sound of a cell phone ringing. Mike pulled away from Harvey and fished in his pockets for his phone. Harvey stood watching him nervously. He had a feeling he knew exactly who was calling Mike.

Mike looked from the screen of his phone to Harvey. "It's him. What do I do? I can't go back there, Harvey..."

Harvey closed his hand around Mike's and the phone. "You don't have to. Don't answer it, Mike," he said levelly.

Mike shook his head. "But where will I go? He has everything. All my pictures, my accounts, everything! Where else can I go?"

The kid didn't have anywhere? Harvey knew that most people stayed in these situations because they had no support network, no safety net to catch them. But he hadn't even bothered to find out about Mike's connections. Did the kid even have any family? He doubted he was on good terms with them if he did. No one who cared about someone would let them stay in the relationship Mike was in.

He took a deep breath and battled internally. His old self was telling him how much of an idiot he was for getting involved in all this. Did he really think Mike wouldn't be like all the others? But Harvey—the Harvey that was standing in his kitchen, who'd held Mike last night, was sure. Mike wasn't like all the rest of them. Mike was special.

"Stay here," Harvey said firmly. "You can stay here."